


Pride

by Bibanana



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gay Pride, Kissing, Multi, No Mary Morstan, Pride, Pride Parades, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibanana/pseuds/Bibanana
Summary: Sherlock and John, Mycroft and Greg Lestrade, and Irene and Molly attend pride. Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty fly over pride in a helicopter.
Relationships: Irene Adler/Molly Hooper, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Pride

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an idea I had for the month of June- pride month!- in which all the queer ships (Johnlock, Mystrade, Molrene, Mormor) go to a pride parade.
> 
> For anyone who isn't well versed in the pride flags, here is everything used in the story:  
> Rainbow = the common pride flag, specifically gay, but applies to everyone in the LGBTQ+ community.  
> Black, grey, white, purple = asexual.  
> Pink, yellow, blue = pansexual  
> Pink, purple, blue = bisexual
> 
> I have never been to a pride event (this year was going to be my first year, but due to the pandemic, pride events were shut down) so I did my best for what I imagine a pride event would be like
> 
> This is my very first time writing Molrene and Mormor, and I have only written Mystrade once before, though I didn't finish or post it. I did my best to stay in character but, because I only have experience with Johnlock, it may be a little out of character.
> 
> WARNING: In the Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty section, the very last perspective, there is talk of suicide and an unhealthy relationship. If that will bother you, stop reading before that point (It will say Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran in bold, you won't miss it).

**Molly Hooper/Irene Adler**

Molly tugged at the hems of her sleeves, anxiously waiting for Irene to open the door. Irene was the only one who _knew_ \- what if she saw a friend or coworker there? How had Irene talked her into this?

_“Come on,” Irene plants a kiss on Molly’s collarbone, causing Molly’s stomach to somersault. “It’ll be fun!” And then Irene’s hands are under her shirt, undoing her bra-_

Oh. That’s how.

The door opened to reveal Irene, standing ever so proudly, in a tight rainbow-sequined top that was hardly long enough to be called a shirt, exposing her entire midriff. Below that, she was wearing black leggings flecked with rainbow sparkles and daring tall black boots that went up to just below her knees.

Molly became extremely aware of her ragged pink jumper (onto which she had hastily stuck a pin of a stack of three pancakes, the first being pink, then yellow, and finally blue, as a last minute thought) and her jeans that had once fit nicely but now sagged loosely and started to fray around the edges, not in a fashionable way.

Irene’s sharp gaze gave her a once over as she grabbed Molly’s elbow and pulled her inside. Before Molly could say anything, Irene had sat her down on a stool in front of a mirror and was gathering brushes.

“Um.” Molly started, unsure what to say. “Hello.”

Irene hummed a melodic tune as she undid Molly’s messy bun. “Hello, dear. You can’t expect me to actually let you accompany me looking like _that_ .” She gritted her teeth, trying to work a comb through Molly’s mousy brown hair. “How do you deal with this? It’s so _dry_.”

“Oh. Well, I usually just put it up.”

“I can see that. I’m going to give you one of my shampoo bottles to take home. I want you to try it out and tell me if it works, alright, love?”

Molly nodded, causing Irene to sigh in exasperation, the comb tangling deeper into Molly’s hair.

Ninety minutes later, Molly was wearing her hair in two small braids, a green cardigan over a white lace shirt that was tucked into her jeans (the same ones she had on before, but looked much nicer with the shirt), and a makeup job fit for a princess. Irene was really a brilliant artist when it came to faces. She had stayed true to Molly’s quiet, subtle nature and had used light pink lipstick, instead of her usual blood red. Her eyes were so intricately done, Molly was afraid to blink, for fear of messing it up. Her lashes were beautifully curled and on each eyelid, a pattern of pink, yellow, and blue blended into each other, matching the pin that was now clipped onto the cardigan, just below the collar.

Irene stepped back to admire her work. Then, she tugged on one of Molly’s braids, smiling. “Come on. We don’t want to miss the parade.”

  
  


**Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade**

Greg’s mobile rang in the midst of a discussion with Donovan about an assault case they had been working. He checked the caller ID. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” He apologized, ignoring her scoff.

 _“What time will you be off work?”_ Mycroft demanded, skipping all introductions.

Greg chuckled a little at his professional tone, pressing the phone to his cheek. “Should be done in half an hour. Then I’ll take a cab to your place?”

_“Don’t bother. I’ll send a car.”_

Greg laughed. “Ah, yes, so the entirety of Scotland Yard can see me get into a shiny black limo that my incredibly posh boyfriend sent.”

 _“Do you have a problem with that, Gregory?”_ Greg could hear the smile in his voice.

“None at all.” Greg paused. “Hey, is Sherlock going? Is it official between him and John?”

_“If only I knew what went on in my brother’s head. I would be surprised to see him there, but who knows. Ever since he started dating John, he has been more… amiable. Perhaps Mrs. Hudson was able to talk them into it.”_

“Huh.” Greg hoped the said “amiability” extended to not being a total pain in the arse while working cases. “Did you tell him about us?”

Mycroft took his time to respond. _“I felt it best to leave him to his deductions.”_

“So he doesn’t know.”

_“No.”_

“Right. Okay. See you in thirty?”

_“Yes. Goodbye.”_

“Bye.” Greg hung up the phone, the goofy grin that always followed a conversation with Mycroft spread across his face.

The next thirty minutes were a blur tapping feet and signing paperwork and a whole lot of watching the minutes tick by on the clock.

Finally, _finally_ , he was free. As if on cue, a fancy black car pulled up in front of the station, earning a raised eyebrow from Sally Donovan. Greg practically ran into the car, feeling like a child on his way to his grandparent’s house. That sensation was doubled when the car pulled up to Mycroft’s mansion, large enough to fit all of Scotland Yard. Because when you’re Mycroft Holmes and the Prime Minister practically works for you, you can afford a house the half size of London.

Greg rang the doorbell once. A maid, the one that worked during the second half of the day, opened the door.

“Inspector Lestrade!” She greeted. “Mr. Holmes is in his room. He’ll be out in a minute. Come on in.”

Greg thanked her and went to stand awkwardly in Mycroft’s grand living room. It was hardly five minutes later when Mycroft emerged from the staircase.

A snort escaped Greg’s mouth. Mycroft had his usual crisp grey suit and- “Is that a _rainbow tie_?”

Mycroft suddenly became very bashful. “Well, ah, isn’t that what people do? The rainbow represents acceptance and inclusion of everyone, no matter who-

Greg chuckled. “Yes, I know what it means, you git.” He crossed the room over to Mycroft in a few long strides and kissed him on the cheek. “Say, do you have any extras that I could borrow?”

Mycroft smiled. “It came in a pack of five.”

  
  


**Sherlock Holmes/John Watson**

“This is ridiculous.” Sherlock scoffed, holding the black, grey, white, and purple scarf out in front of him. “I’m not wearing a striped scarf. I will look like the dog with the cap.”

John laughed, tugging at the sleeves of his pink-purple-blue jumper, ”You mean Cat in the Hat? It’s either that one or rainbow. Would you rather I have gotten you a rainbow-striped one? Besides, it’s hardly fair if I have to wear _this_ ,” He motioned down at the jumper that Mrs. Hudson had bought for him. “and you get away with nothing.”

“Why are we even going at all? It’s a frankly ridiculous event.” Sherlock tied the scarf loosely around his neck, cringing at his reflection in the mirror.

“Because your brother works his arse off getting rights for couples like us and I’ve spent over forty years in the closet and Mrs. Hudson makes us tea and biscuits every day so it would be pretty rude to tell her no. She’s even offered to drive us.” John’s eyes sparkled at the thought of riding in Mrs. Hudson’s Aston Martin.

John walked over to Sherlock, smiling. He tugged at Sherlock’s scarf, pulling him down into a kiss. Their lips connected and any reluctance Sherlock had immediately dissolved. John was still grinning, making snogging a little difficult, so Sherlock pulled away, settling for tousling John’s grey-blond hair with one hand and taking John’s hand with his other. “Come on, then. We don’t want to keep Mrs. Hudson waiting.”

John squeezed Sherlock’s fingers as they attempted to go down the narrow staircase without releasing each other. It seemed trivial or even stupid, but they had spent so much time apart, so much heartache and longing, neither of them could bear the thought of separating.

True to her word, Mrs. Hudson was waiting in her newly polished vehicle, beaming.

“Why are you so excited?” Sherlock demanded, finally letting go of John’s hand. “You’re not even going.”

Mrs. Hudson scoffed. “You boys have been keeping your relationship private for _ages_. I’ve known all along, of course, but you would never admit it. I’m so relieved to finally see you two going public.”

John considered pointing out that there actually _hadn’t_ been a relationship all along, that this was a fairly recent development. He decided against it. The days of contradicting her were long past.

“John,” Sherlock started tentatively.

John looked at him, surprised to find worry clouding his cerulean eyes. “Mm?”

“What if you were to see someone from work? Say, with the protesters.”

John considered this. There was a chance, but in the current day in age it was near impossible to get him fired on those standards alone. Of course, getting fired was a worst case scenario, they could just treat him horribly, refuse to let him see certain patients, make him work longer hours… No. This was the twenty-first century. It was a small risk, and one he was willing to take. “What’s not to like? You’re the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.” He reached up and brushed a long curl off of Sherlock’s forehead.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, grinning. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No?” John’s wide grey-blue eyes looked so innocent, Sherlock couldn’t help planting a kiss firmly on his perfect strawberry lips.

“Boys,” Mrs. Hudson scolded, looking in the rearview mirror. “Remember whose car you're in.”

John pulled a few inches away, still close enough to softly breathe, “God, I love you so much,” against Sherlock’s face, too quiet for Mrs. Hudson to hear.

“Likewise,” Sherlock smiled.

Mrs. Hudson pulled up a block away from the parades. “Is here good?”

John cleared his throat. “Yes, this is fine, thank you, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Alright, you go have fun. Give me a ring when you need to be picked up again.”

John thanked her one more time as they climbed out of the car, his heart pounding.

The couple walked, hand in hand, towards the people, waving rainbow flags, men kissing men, women kissing women. John glanced up to see Sherlock looking rather astonished.

“I must admit,” He said, “this is unlike anything I have seen before.”

John smirked. “Yeah, I’d imagine. Feeling underdressed yet?”

Sherlock stared for a moment longer at the shirtless men who had painted themselves rainbow, then down at his subtly asexual scarf. “Only slightly. You couldn’t expect me to…

John snorted. “What, in London?” He motioned to the rainbow coloured men. “Nah, if it starts raining, they’ll be miserable.”

John tugged Sherlock’s hand, trying to pull him into the heart of the parade, but Sherlock remained still. “Come on, then.”

“John, you are not gay.” Sherlock stated.

John looked a little puzzled. “No, I’m bi. You know that.”

“You were so insistent that you were absolutely not gay, so much so that one would have thought that you had no tendencies towards men at all.”

John squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “Sherlock? What is this? I don’t usually like men, no, but you know I love you.”

Sherlock’s face was unreadable, his brilliant eyes flicking back and forth. “Mrs. Hudson and Angelo and Irene Adler and even Mycroft, in fact, practically everyone we have ever met together, assumed that we were a couple.”

“They saw what I couldn’t.” John said lightly.

“Is that so? Because then, there I was, professing my love for you and between Mrs. Hudson’s persistence that we were in fact dating and my own confessions, that’s a lot of pressure on you to return the same feelings for me.”

“Hang on, are you saying that I only love you because _I felt pressured?_ ” John’s lips hung parted in astonishment.

Sherlock said nothing.

“Sherlock Holmes, you are the best thing that could have ever happened to me and you are an idiot for thinking otherwise. Now, why is this meltdown happening here? Let’s join the fun, shall we?”

Sherlock squinted at him for a split second, burying his doubts. Despite all of his faults, it would seem that John Watson truly loved him. And not even for his smarts or his looks but for _him_. A bright smile broke out on his face like sunshine after the rain. “Yes, let’s.”

They started on forward once more, fingers intertwined, quickly swallowed into a sea of smiles and rainbows.

  
  


**Molly Hooper/Irene Adler**

“Oh, look, there’s Sherlock and his boyfriend, let’s go say hi.” Irene tugged at Molly’s arm.

Molly stood still, her eyes wide. “Sherlock and his… he’s going out with _John_? I mean, I suppose that makes sense, but I thought Sherlock preferred to be alone…”

Irene rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Sherlock prefers to not be with women. Now, don’t tell me you’re jealous. You said you were over him!”

“I _am_ over him.” Molly insisted. She raised her hand in a wave. “John’s spotted us, they’re coming over.”

John was beaming when they walked over. Sherlock looked rather bored. “Molly! Wow!” John exclaimed. “And Irene Adler! I had no idea! Wow!” He said again.

Molly blushed. “Yeah, we’re two months strong. What about you?”

John looked up at his date. “Three months for us. Sherlock, I suppose you’d have deduced it by now?”

“What? Yes, of course. Fairly obvious, I should thi-” Sherlock sharply cut off, staring over their heads at something behind them. “ _Bloody hell_.” He swore.

“What’s the matter?” John asked in a low voice. He followed Sherlock’s gaze, his jaw dropping in surprise. His eyes landed on a couple with their backs turned. “That’s not… is that your brother?”

“With Inspector Graham Lestrade.” Sherlock finished, in a tone flavoured with contempt. His shoulders tensed and he began to walk briskly forward, shoving his way between Molly and Irene.

“Sherlock!” John called after him. “Sorry,” He apologized as he brushed past Irene and Molly, hurrying to catch up with his boyfriend.

Irene snorted. Molly lightly slapped her arm.

  
  


**Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade & Sherlock Holmes/John Watson**

Greg beamed with pride, looking out at all the people, celebrating their sexuality. He squeezed Mycroft’s hand. “They can all get married, now,” He said softly, “because of you.”

Mycroft did his best to hide the reddening of his cheeks. “You know it wasn’t all down to me, Gregory. It would have happened eventually.”

“Aye, but not for a few more years, at lea-

“Well, hello, brother dear.” interrupted a deep voice from behind them.

Greg whirled around, his ears burning. “Sherlock? Hey! Didn’t know you’d be here, mate.” A quick glance to his left confirmed that Mycroft was keeping his cool.

“Hmm, it seems I’m not the only one making _surprise appearances_.” Sherlock said in something very close to a growl.

John jogged up to them, placing a hand on Sherlock’s upper back. Greg’s eyes widened slightly. He knew they were going out, but it was going to take a while to adjust to such casual displays of affection. Sherlock relaxed a bit at John’s touch.

“So, the two of you are a… thing?” John asked awkwardly.

Greg opened his mouth, searching for the right words. Mycroft answered first. “Yes,” He spoke only to John, ignoring Sherlock’s presence. “We felt it best not to inform you, as Gregory works very closely with my brother.”

Sherlock’s face remained placid, unreadable. “And how long has this been going on?”

John looked up nervously at his partner, moving his arm down from his back, slipping it into Sherlock’s hand.

Mycroft sighed, muttering something about his younger brother’s temper, then said, “Six months this Friday.”

“Six months!” Sherlock repeated under his breath. “How did I never notice?”

“Well,” Mycroft said. “I suppose you have been a little…” He nodded in John’s direction. “Distracted.”

Sherlock stared. Then, the whisper of a grin began to form on his lips. “What am I saying?” He rubbed his hands together. “This is brilliant. Now Mycroft can remove the remaining legal barriers that are preventing me from examining any evidence. He wouldn’t want his _boyfriend_ to get in trouble.”

Greg shook his head, smiling. John laughed. Mycroft rolled his eyes, though even he looked a little amused.

“Honestly, Gavin,” Sherlock continued.

“ _Greg_.”

“Greg. Why would you choose someone as dull as my brother?”

“If anything,” Greg said, “ _I’m_ the dull one in this relationship.”

Mycroft frowned. “Never.” Sherlock watched in horror as he planted a kiss on Greg’s cheek.

“Dear God.” He moaned under his breath. “They’ve gone barmy.”

“Well, so have we.” John released Sherlock’s hand, only to hold it up to his mouth, kissing the back of his hand.

Sherlocked blushed, looking briefly at his brother. Their eyes met. Neither one of them had ever thought that they had a chance at love. They had both made their peace with solidarity long ago. And now, to think that not one but _both_ Holmes brothers had a committed, loving partner-

The smile that Mycroft wore and Sherlock returned said it all. It was a smile of love and happiness and pride.

  
  


**Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran**

Jim pressed his face to the window of his helicopter, Queen blaring in his earbuds. Below him, people marched and shouted and sang, waving their rainbow flags through the air. “They’re so funny.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

“What was that?” Sebastian looked up from his phone.

Jim pulled an earbud out of one ear. “All the little people, below us. They will find any cause to celebrate. It’s a tad boring after a while, isn’t it?

Sebastian hummed in agreement.

“Would anyone even care,” Jim pondered, changing the subject completely, snatching his assistant’s arm, digging his long fingernails into his skin. “If I were to jump out of this helicopter?”

Sebastian grit his teeth, glancing down at his arm. This was going to leave marks. “Is that what you’re thinking about right now?” He asked, his tone nonchalant. Jim had a tendency of being casually suicidal, but hardly followed through on his plans. Besides, if he were to really do it, Sebastian reckons it wouldn’t be something as mundane as jumping into a pride parade. He would want to bring someone down with him, go out with a bang. His death would be just one small part of a large game he had thought up, because that’s all life was to him; a great game, filled with lots of pieces, people, waiting for the command to move.

Jim smirked, pushing his fingers down harder, watching Sebastian wince. “Oh, it’s what I’m always thinking about.”

“It’d hurt, wouldn’t it?” Sebastian tried to engage Jim in conversation, hoping he would release his arm. “The fall?”

Jim laughed, though it wasn’t a happy laugh. It was a laugh that sang with darkness, with pain, with complete and utter _boredom_ of this life. “The fall doesn’t hurt you, Seb, you should know that. Falling is just like flying, and I _love_ flying, but it’s not the fall that hurts you. It’s the landing.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. Jim wouldn’t actually do it, would he? Kill himself? Leave Sebastian alone in this world, with no one to answer to? Jim was a rubbish commander and an even worse boyfriend, but Sebastian loved him all the same. Their relationship was anything but a healthy one, but when it came down to it, they would both kill for each other, in fact, they had already. And they would both die for each other. Though, Jim would die for anything. Jim would die for fun. And nothing else mattered, did it? As long as Sebastian knew that there was some form of compassion underneath all the darkness, it didn’t matter what he did to him, what Sebastian let him do. “I would care.” Sebastian said honestly, answering his earlier question.

Jim looked him sharply in the eye, causing Sebastian’s breath to catch in his throat. “Well, good thing your opinion doesn’t matter.” At long last, he removed his fingers from Sebastian’s arm, leaving bright red, moon shaped cuts.

A long silence stretched between them. The murky shadows that haunted Jim’s eyes left Sebastian feeling sick.

Jim finally broke the silence to say, “He’s a sexy one, isn’t he?”

Sebastian leaned forward to look at whoever Jim was referring to. Below a tree, stood a tall, curly-haired man whom he recognized as the detective Sherlock Holmes. Next to him was a shorter man, his partner, Watson or something like that. “Should I be jealous?”

“No, it looks like he’s taken.”

They watched as Sherlock Holmes leaned forward, cupping the face of his companion, and giving him a gentle, delicate kiss. His friend kissed him back, then, a bit more roughly, threading his fingers through the detective’s silky locks.

They never kissed like that, Sebastian realized. Whenever Jim kissed him, it was sharp, painful, demanding. They never touched each other’s face like it was something valuable, something meant to be treasured. When they kissed, it was out of necessity, the need to feel something, anything at all.

Jim tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Land here, please. I need to speak to a detective. I have a… a case.” The smile that lit up Jim’s face sent chills through Sebastian’s body. He suddenly felt very, very afraid for Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading, and I am very sorry I ended it like that! Thank you to [Hedgehogs_and_Rainbows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedgehogs_and_Rainbows) for moral support, beta-ing, and idea help
> 
> [Come say hi on Tumblr!!](https://consultingravenclaw221b.tumblr.com/)


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